Stop grieving. Start giving thanks to me. You live to fight on other days.
Vengeance is disappointing, always.
Reasons never matter, once Death comes cold and bold and takes the living by the hand. You count up your dead, every one.
Men are fools who forget what really matters while time goes by.
Your honor blinds you, Tempus, to what's right and wrong these days.
Why is it we are always the targets of the angry Fates? Twice as many men of ours met harm as did theirs, since we've come here.